22. Cast
22
CAST
I rub my eyes, my gaze flickering between the paperwork scattered across my desk. The legalities surrounding Castillo Industries—my inheritance and the legacy of the Castillo Cartel—are suffocating. It’s a lot to process, even for me. But right now, it’s not the mountains of paperwork that’s testing my patience.
Willow’s chewing her damn pen again. The rhythmic click-click-click is driving me insane.
“Willow,” I grunt, not looking up, but I don’t have to. She knows my tone well enough by now. “Stop chewing the pen. You’re distracting.”
“Sorry,” she whispers, putting the pen down.
There’s a beat of silence before I hear her shuffle across the room, closer, the soft rustle of pages from her book fading as she approaches my desk. I glance up just in time to catch her biting her lip, that nervous little quirk of hers that she can’t hide.
She leans against my desk, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, the tip of her finger tapping against the edge of the table as she watches me with those wide eyes, like I’m some puzzle she’s trying to solve.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly, her voice betraying a hint of concern.
I lean back in my chair, not answering right away. I don’t do okay. But she doesn’t need to hear that. Not from me.
“I’m fine.” I give her my best don’t push it look, but she only quirks an eyebrow, undeterred.
“You don’t look fine.” She’s quick to sit down on the couch, curling her legs under her as if the space between us is just a formality. The Jane Austen book, probably Pride and Prejudice , is placed on the corner of my desk.
I watch her for a moment, and I can’t help the half-grin that tugs at the corner of my mouth. “And you are at my desk why?”
“Because you don’t look fine.”
“Are you saying I am ugly?” I tease.
“No, but you know I am not asking about that type of fine.” She answers seriously, her eyebrows scrunched as she looks at me again.
“Willow.”
“Cast,” she mocks.
“You keep saying that you’re fine,” she mutters, staring at me like I’ve got all the answers. “But it’s like I can see through you.” She crosses her arms tighter, the tip of her finger tracing the edge of my desk again, but now there’s a hint of frustration in her movement.
I can feel her gaze on me, the way she studies me with such intent, like she’s determined to find out what's beneath the surface. It's irritating, but... somehow, I don't mind. At least, not when it’s her.
"Fine, you wanna know?" I lean forward, dropping my voice an octave lower, the kind of dangerous tone I know she can't resist. "I'd be better if you were naked. Here. Right now."
Her eyes snap to mine, and for a moment, she says nothing. Just stares, as though she’s trying to decide whether I’m joking or dead serious.
“I don't think you’re serious," she says, her voice too steady for someone who knows how to play this game.
I smirk, that same half-grin creeping up. “You don’t think? Maybe you should test me.”
The tension between us shifts, thickening in the air like something electric. She stands slowly, every move deliberate, a hint of something daring behind her eyes. I can tell she’s not backing down now.
Her fingers trail up the buttons of her loose blouse, each one undone with an almost painful slowness.
“Only when it’s worth the effort,” I reply, my gaze darkening as she begins to slide the fabric off her shoulders. The way she undresses—so effortlessly, so confident—puts a grin on my face. I’d never admit it out loud, but she knows how to draw me in.
Willow’s blouse hangs loose, the fabric slipping off her shoulders with a deliberate slowness that makes my jaw tighten. She’s good at this , I think, watching her as she lets the garment fall to the floor. Her fingers trail down her sides, teasingly slow, and then she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts.
“Only when it’s worth the effort,” I repeat, my voice low, my eyes steady on hers. She smirks, that damn smirk that always seems to pull me deeper into whatever game she’s playing. The shorts drop, and she stands there, completely bare except for the diamond collar, her confidence radiating like a challenge.
Without a word, she kneels beside my desk, her body folding into that submissive pose I know so well. Knees tucked, back straight, head bowed just enough to show she is waiting. Her breathing is steady, but I can see the faint rise and fall of her chest, the subtle tension in her shoulders.
I don't say a word. Instead, I lean back in my chair, my fingers drumming lightly on the desk. My phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. I glance at it, then back at her. She doesn't move, doesn't even look up, but I can feel the heat of her gaze on me.
I pick up the phone. "Yeah?" I say, my voice calm, professional, as if I'm not sitting mere inches away from a naked woman who is practically begging for my attention.
On the other end, one of the members starts talking, their voice blending into the background as my focus shifts entirely to Willow. Her breath hitches, just slightly, as I reach out and let my fingers graze the curve of her back. She shivers, but she doesn't move, doesn't break her pose.
"Mm-hmm," I murmur into the phone, my tone neutral as I trace a line down her spine. My fingers dip lower, just barely brushing the swell of her ass. Her muscles tense, and I hear the faintest exhale escape her lips.
I continue the conversation, my words automatic, while my hand explores her body with a deliberate slowness. My fingers trail lower, teasing, until I finally press them against her wet heat. She gasps, her body jerking slightly, but she stays in position, her nails digging into her thighs.
"Yeah, I'll look into that," I say into the phone, my voice steady even as I slide a finger inside her. She clenches around me, her breath coming faster now, but she doesn't make a sound. I push deeper, my thumb circling her clit as I listen to the drone of the voice on the other end of the line.
Willow's breath hitches again, her body trembling as I work her slowly, deliberately. I can feel her trying to hold back, to stay quiet, but it's getting harder for her. Her hips twitch, her back arching just slightly, but she keeps her head down, her face hidden.
"That sounds good," I say, my tone casual, as if I'm not fingering her in the middle of a business call. "I'll let you know if there are any updates."
My fingers move faster now, curling inside her, hitting that spot that makes her legs shake. Her breathing is ragged, her body trembling as she tries to stay still. I can feel her getting close, her muscles tightening around my fingers, and I lean closer, my lips brushing against her ear.
"Stay quiet," I whisper, my voice low and commanding. She nods, her breath catching as I add a second finger, stretching her, filling her. Her nails dig deeper into her thighs, her body writhing as I push her closer to the edge.
On the phone, the conversation is winding down, but I'm not paying attention anymore. My focus is entirely on Willow, on the way her body responds to my touch, the way she bites her lip to keep from making a sound. I press harder, faster until her body suddenly goes rigid, her muscles clamping down around my fingers as she comes.
She lets out a muffled groan, her body shaking as the wave of pleasure crashes over her. I move my fingers slowly, drawing out her orgasm until she slumps forward, forehead resting against the edge of the desk.
"Alright, I'll talk to you later," I say into the phone, my voice calm and collected as if nothing has happened. I hang up and set the phone down, my eyes on Willow as she tries to catch her breath.
She looks up at me, cheeks flushed and eyes dark with desire."You're cruel," she whispers, her voice trembling.
A smirk forms on my lips as I lean back in my chair, my gaze lingering on her with a hunger that I can barely contain. "Only when it's worth the effort," I reply, my voice low and seductive. I can see the fire in her eyes grow even more intense as she hesitates for a moment before slowly rising to her feet.
She stands there, trembling and breathless, but there is a determination in her stance that wasn't there before. Without breaking eye contact, I stand and close the distance between us, gripping her hips firmly as I pull her against me.
"You want this," I growl, my voice sending shivers down her spine. "So now you're going to get it."
Her breath hitches as I capture her lips in a passionate kiss, my hands roaming over her body with an urgency that surprises even me. She moans softly, her hands gripping my shoulders as I back her up against the desk.
Breaking away from the kiss, I lock eyes with her as I undo my belt with one hand. "Don't make a sound," I warn, my voice firm and commanding. She nods, her wide eyes filled with both fear and desire.
I lift her up on the desk, her back arching as I position myself between her legs. She wraps her legs around me, pulling me closer.
My hand slides down her body, tracing the curve of her hip before gripping it firmly. She gasps and arches her back as I enter her in one swift motion, our bodies merging together with a perfect fit. Her nails dig into my shoulders, and she bites down on her lip to stifle a moan.
"You feel amazing," I whisper in her ear, my voice thick with desire. As I move inside her, she whimpers and clutches onto me tighter, matching my rhythm with her hips. A bead of sweat rolls down her forehead as she surrenders herself completely to the pleasure.
I lean down to kiss her, my lips hungry and insistent against hers. With each thrust, our bodies become more entwined, building towards an explosive climax.
"Come for me," I growl, my hands gripping her hips tightly as I thrust even harder, pushing her to her limits. And in that moment, her body shakes with orgasm, her cries muffled by my lips on hers.
I continue to move inside her, feeling my own release building until I can't hold back any longer. With one final thrust, I pull out and release onto her stomach, our bodies both spent from the intense pleasure. I realize that it’s the first time I have ever been able to cum without either giving or receiving pain. My Carina .
As we lie there catching our breaths, I lean down and kiss her again, my fingers tracing through the mess on her stomach. "You're mine," I whisper possessively against her lips as I hold her close. She nods in agreement, barely able to speak as she basks in the afterglow of our passion.
But just as we are lost in each other's embrace, the sound of my phone buzzing interrupts us. Reluctantly pulling away, I glance at the screen and sigh. I know I have to answer it, but part of me doesn't want to leave this moment with Willow, not yet.
"Don't move," I say firmly before reaching for the phone. She nods in understanding, still lost in her blissful state. As I answer the call with a calm and collected voice, deep down I can't quite hide the possessiveness and longing that Willow has ignited within me with just one night of passion.
But even as I speak on the phone, my eyes never leave hers. And as if reading my thoughts, she smiles slightly and whispers those two words that make it all worth it.
"I’m Yours."
I motion for her to stand, my gaze still fixed on her with that satisfied smile still lingering on her lips. There's something about the way she moves, the way her body reacts to everything that happens between us, that makes it impossible for me to tear my eyes away.
There’s a knock at the door.
I sit up with a sigh, wiping my hand across my face. “Stay here,” I whisper to Willow, draping one of my button-up shirts over her, just in case anyone sees her. She doesn’t ask any questions, just nods and settles into the chair beside the desk, the faintest trace of a smile still playing on her lips.
I open the door, my eyes immediately falling on one of my trusted men, a messenger of sorts. He looks nervous, but he’s trying to hide it. That’s always a bad sign.
“Boss,” he says, and I can tell it’s important by the way his voice falters. “We’ve got a situation.”
I nod, stepping aside to let him in, never taking my eyes off of him. His hand extends to me, holding a thick envelope.
I rip it open without a word. Inside, there’s a photo. It’s of Tito. Bloodied, beaten to a pulp, his body mangled beyond recognition. A message is scrawled across the image in bold letters:
Long Live the King.
A chill crawls up my spine as I process the photo. Tito’s dead. And with his death comes the inevitable—my ascension to the head of the cartel.
I feel it in my bones. This is what I’ve been waiting for, what I’ve been trained for. But in the back of my mind, I also hear Willow’s soft breathing, the way she just looked at me and said, “Yours.”
The weight of the title doesn’t hit me all at once. It comes slowly, like a snake slithering up my spine. It’s mine. The legacy. The power. The control.
“Get out,” I say to the man at the door, my voice low, dark. “And don’t let anyone else in.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He nods, hurrying out of the room, leaving me alone with the photo and the unspoken truth hanging in the air.
I close the door behind me and turn back to Willow, who’s watching me intently from her spot. She looks at me with those eyes, searching, waiting for me to say something—anything. But the only words I can manage are the ones I whisper to myself.
Long Live the King.
I don’t need to say it out loud. Not yet. But I know what this means. It means everything is about to change. And Willow? She’ll be right there with me, whether she knows it or not.
I turn back to her, my face hardening into a mask of control. “Get some rest,” I say, my voice softer now, almost tender.
“But-”
I kiss her forehead. “Now Carina.”